


I Think That It's Best If We Both Stay

by distira



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 17:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distira/pseuds/distira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff smiles at Eric, making sure his dimples show, because it can't hurt to charm the man who's going to plan his workouts.  "Hi," he says.  "Nice to meet you."  </p><p>or:  eric staal was injured before making the NHL and is jordy's trainer</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think That It's Best If We Both Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meretricula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meretricula/gifts).



> HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, [MERETRICULA!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/meretricula/profile) i twitter-creeped a while back and saw that you had mentioned wanting a skinner/staal where e staal was the one who missed out on the NHL career, so here you go <3
> 
>  
> 
> (title is from taylor swift, naturally)

Jeff goes back to North Carolina early.

There's no reason for it, really – he's been having a good summer at home, trying to bulk up and spending time with his sisters, and it's not like he particularly misses sweating through his clothes the minute he opens his front door, but there are a few weeks left before preseason camps start and he ends up heading down early anyway. He texts the guys to see who's around and unsurprisingly, pretty much everyone is still at home or on vacation.

The one text Jeff gets back with good news is from Jordan-- who only just got traded to the Canes last month-- and it says, _i'm here._

 _out of pittsburgh already?_ Jeff asks. He doesn't know how quickly he could be packed up and ready to leave Raleigh if he got traded, and he's only been here for two years; Jordan was in Pittsburgh a lot longer, had an actual house and everything.

 _yeah, moved in last week figured i'd just stay here and train_ , Jordan texts back.

They keep texting for a while and make vague plans to meet up for lunch later in the week. Jordan's a nice guy; Jeff has met him a few times and they played well together at the All-Star game. Jeff's looking forward to playing with him for an entire season.

 

"So you're here training?" Jeff asks. They're at one of Jeff's favorite restaurants for a late lunch, and Jordan is wearing workout clothes and a baseball cap. 

"Yeah, sorry about-" Jordan gestures down at himself, grinning ruefully. Jeff waves him off; it's not like they're anywhere fancy, and he's only a step up from workout clothes in cargo shorts and a t-shirt. "I have a session in an hour, Eric's crackin' the whip." 

"Eric? Your brother?" 

"Yep," Jordan says, shrugging. Jeff knows who Eric Staal is-- most people who care about hockey know who Eric is, he assumes; he was a fucking second overall draft pick-- but he's never actually met Jordan's oldest brother. "He's trained me for years, man. But he's been kicking my ass since we were kids, so." Jordan laughs a little. "It's nothing new."

"Hey, that's pretty sweet," Jeff says. "I can't imagine training with one of my sisters." 

"Marc tried working with him a few summers ago? Disaster," Jordan says, grinning conspiratorially. "Even I was miserable, just from listening to both of them bitch." Jeff laughs. "Who do you train with, out here?" 

"Myself," Jeff shrugs. "I usually don't get back this early, you know? My guy's still in Toronto."

"Sure," Jordan nods. "Well, if you get bored and wanna give Eric a spin, let me know. He's brutal, but he gets the job done." 

"Cool," Jeff says, and he's actually kind of considering it. It would be nice to get to know Jordan a little better before the circus of preseason camp starts, and while Jeff's good at workout out alone, he knows as well as anyone that things get a little more intense with a partner. "I might take you up on that." 

 

Training by himself isn't hard, exactly—Jeff's trainer in Toronto has twice daily workouts planned out for him, and it's kind of nice to be able to sleep in a little and make his own hours. He's coming up to a max strength week, though, and it would be nice to have someone to spot him, which is why he eventually does call Jordan. 

"Hey," he says, putting the phone on speaker and holding it away from his sweaty, post-workout face. 

"Hey, Jeff," Jordan says, and Jeff can practically hear him smiling. "What's up?" 

"Nothing much," Jeff hums. "I was just wondering- do you have Eric's number? I was thinking I might hit him up, see if he wanted to train me for a few weeks." 

"Yeah?" Jordan asks. "I can do you one better, he's right here." Jeff hears him muffle the phone with his hand and shout, "Eric!" over his shoulder. "Here you go," Jordan says to Jeff. 

"Hello?" someone else-- Eric --says. 

"Hey, Eric?" Jeff asks. Eric hums an affirmation. "It's Jeff- Skinner, one of Jordan's teammates." 

Jeff isn't expecting Eric to laugh, but he does. "You call him Jordan?" Eric asks. "That's great- hey, Jordy, you goin' by Jordan down here or what?" he calls. Jeff hears a thump in the background and he assumes Jordan's socked him one. "Sorry," Eric says, and Jeff's pretty sure it's directed at him. "What can I do for you, Jeff Skinner?" 

"Well, Jordan-- Jordy," Jeff corrects when Eric snorts a little, "said you might be up for training me? Just until camp starts, my guy's still in Toronto." 

"Yeah, for sure," Eric says easily. "I've got Jordy in for a session this afternoon, want to jump in with him?" 

"Sounds good," Jeff says, even though he'd been kind of looking forward to napping through the heat of the day. "What time?" 

"Let's say be at the track at 2:30," Eric tells him. "You guys are gonna sweat it out, drink some water." 

He sounds entirely too happy about Jeff and Jordy's future of sweat and misery, and Jeff has worked with enough trainers to know before even having a session that Eric is really good at his job. "See you there," Jeff says, and wanders into his kitchen to get going on an early lunch. 

 

It's humid enough that Jeff is sweating just from the walk from his car to the track. He's carrying his water bottle and his iPod shuffle, and the condensation on the water bottle is making it slippery. There aren't any other people at the track, because most people are normal and stay inside during the humid afternoons, Jeff thinks, but Jordy and Eric are lounging on the bleachers, just barely in the shade. Jeff heads towards them. 

"Hey," he calls, shading his eyes with his hand. 

"Good to see you, man," Jordy says, grinning at him. He points his thumb at his brother. "Eric, Jeff, Jeff, Eric." 

Jeff smiles at Eric, making sure his dimples show, because it can't hurt to charm the man who's going to plan his workouts. "Hi," he says. "Nice to meet you." 

Eric grins back at him. "You too," he tells Jeff. "You guys ready? Get up, fatass," Eric says, nudging Jordy with his foot. Jordy doesn't move. "We're gonna do some acceleration training to start, and then an interval workout." Jordy groans a little, and Jeff nods, trying to keep his smile up. "I don't know what your usual plan is," Eric says to Jeff, "but I usually put lifts in the morning and conditioning in the afternoon." 

"Sounds good," Jeff says, even though it sounds miserable because he'd much rather do conditioning in the morning before it gets hot. 

It's a hard workout. Jeff takes his shirt off after the first five minutes of accelerations, partly because it's more useful as a towel to wipe the sweat out of his eyes and also because his farmer's tan is bad enough. Both Staals chirp him for it, but he's working too hard to throw much back. 

By the time he and Jordy finish the intervals Eric sets out for them, Jeff is ready to lie down and take a nap right there on the track. He doesn't get to, though, because Eric says, "Time for abs," and then looms over Jeff to watch him finish all his sets. Jeff's pretty sure that Jordy is cheating since Eric isn't watching him like a hawk, but Jeff makes sure to finish strong-- Eric staring at him is weirdly intense and it makes Jeff want to do better. He feels a little like back when he made the switch from figure skating, always wanting to prove himself to the hockey guys that he wasn't any weaker than them, but this is also distinctly less awkward. 

"Good job, kid," Eric tells him when he finishes, and Jeff makes a face at 'kid', but takes the hand Eric offers to help him up. Jeff's forearms and hands are slippery with sweat, but Eric's skin is somehow perfectly dry and cool. 

"Thanks," Jeff says, ducking his head a little. 

"You're a lucky one," Jordy tells him as they all head back to the bleachers. "He never compliments me." 

"Because you cheat," Eric says. "Don't think I didn't see you." 

"Whatever," Jordy shrugs

Jeff grabs his water bottle from under the bleachers and unscrews the cap to slosh half of it over his face. The water is kind of warm from sitting in the sun, but it still feels good. He shakes his head, trying to dry out his hair a little before pulling his t-shirt back on. 

"So," Eric says, looking at him as he emerges from the neck of his shirt. "Did I get you hooked? You gonna lift with us tomorrow morning?" 

"Sure thing," Jeff says, smiling. "Just tell me when." 

"Seven," Eric says. "Gotta do it early so your muscles have enough recovery time." 

Jeff winces, because that's earlier than he's gotten up since the season ended. "No way I can get you to push that back?" 

"Fat chance," Jordy grumbles. "I've been trying all summer." Eric just smiles. 

"Okay then," Jeff laughs. "Seven it is." 

 

Eric's workouts don't get easier. Jeff's sore more days than he isn't, which he guesses is good, to get it out of the way now instead of during camp, but having to gingerly lower himself onto his own couch is getting old. He mostly just joins Jordy's sessions, and Jordy somehow isn't having trouble raising his arms over his head or sitting down, so Jeff spends a lot of time scowling at him. 

"I have Eric all year," Jordy explains when he catches Jeff glowering between sets. "My body has been traumatized like this ever since he started training me-- God, how many years ago? Eight? Something like that." 

"If you're talking, that means you aren't working hard enough," Eric intones from across the weight room where he's writing out the rest of their exercises on the whiteboard. 

"You're the one who gave us required rest," Jeff points out, smiling at Eric. Jordy snickers. 

"And he who giveth can taketh away," Eric throws back, waving the whiteboard marker around. 

"You wouldn't," Jeff says, narrowing his eyes a little, and Eric keeps eye contact for just long enough that Jeff wonders if he actually would. Then he laughs. 

"Nope, this isn't some fad workout and I am trying to get you in long-term shape," Eric says, back to business. "Up and at 'em, third set." 

Jeff can feel Eric watching him as he sticks out his ass to get in position for the dead lift, and he pumps out an extra rep because of it. 

 

Eric usually texts Jeff the workout plans the night before, so he's pretty surprised when he wakes up at six in the morning to his phone ringing and Eric's number popping up on the screen. He glares at it for a long moment and hits 'answer' just before it goes to voicemail. 

"'Lo?" he says, his voice rough and scratchy from sleep. He needs some water or something. 

"Hey, sorry to wake you," Eric says, and he sounds a lot gentler like this. Jeff presses the phone closer to his ear and sinks back against his pillows. "Jordy's sick, so I was thinking of changing up your plan for the day and going a little lighter, if you're cool with that." 

"Yeah?" Jeff says, because his brain isn't one hundred percent working yet but he can feel his legs already protesting any movement. He wants a lighter day. If Eric's offering, he's not going to say no. 

"Yeah, I'm thinking go out for a long, easy run this morning, and then maybe get some pool work in this afternoon," Eric says. "Don't want you to get burned out." 

"I appreciate that," Jeff tells him. 

"Let's meet at the usual spot at seven, then," Eric says. "Sound good?" 

"Sure," Jeff says, blinking a few times to keep his eyes open. Seven is sooner than he wants it to be. "Am I gonna be running it alone or are you gonna come with?" He and Jordy usually hit the runs together while Eric waits for them, probably devising new ways to torture them. 

"I suppose I could be tempted," Eric says, and Jeff can practically hear him smile. "Work your dimple magic once we get there and we'll see." 

"What?" Jeff says, huffing a laugh. "Dimple magic?" 

"Don't think I don't see you smiling whenever you're trying to get out of something," Eric tells him, and Jeff shakes his head even though Eric can't see him. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says. He absolutely _does_ know what Eric's talking about, but admitting it would make the dimples a less powerful tool, and he can't have that. 

"Yeah, sure," Eric laughs. "See you at seven." 

 

Eric's waiting when Jeff pulls up to their usual meeting place at the head of the trail. 

"Just because you're early doesn't mean I'm late," Jeff says before Eric can open his mouth. Eric laughs. 

"Get stretched out," he says, and Jeff puts his foot up on the bench near the parking lot and starts stretching out his hamstrings. 

"So," he says, leaning over his knee. "You gonna come?" He smiles, making sure to flash the dimples, and Eric starts laughing for real, a deep belly laugh that Jeff wants to hear more of, more often. 

"I guess I am," Eric says eventually, nodding his head slightly in Jeff's direction. "Can't let you slack off, eh." 

"Hey," Jeff protests. "I'm not Jordy!" 

"No," Eric agrees, maintaining eye contact for a beat too long. "You aren't." 

They take the ten-mile loop and even though Eric had said on the phone that it would be an easy run, Jeff is breathing hard and sweating through his shirt by the third mile. He doesn't like to talk when he runs, and it doesn't seem like Eric does, either, because they run in silence, apart from Jeff's panting and the sound of their footfalls. They pass a few other runners-- joggers, really, and Jeff wishes he was one of them-- on their loop, and Jeff does his best to keep pace with Eric, stride for stride. Eric has a good five inches on him so Jeff has to work for it, but he stays with Eric until the last half mile, when Eric ups the pace and has to wave his hand behind him, motioning for Jeff to follow. 

"Fuck," Jeff grunts, willing his legs to take him a little faster, and he doesn't know why Eric makes him want to always push himself, he isn't sure if it's just the mark of a great trainer or if it's something else, but he does it, opens his stride and gets his arms swinging until he's caught up and they finish the mile together. 

"Good finish," Eric says, and he's sweating but his face isn't red like Jeff knows his is. Eric holds his hand out for a high five and Jeff obliges before he takes his shirt off and mops his face with it. 

"Can I nap now?" he asks, laughing a little. "You wore me out." 

"I was gonna offer breakfast," Eric says, smiling a little.

"That works, too," Jeff says, perking up because he's pretty hungry; he hadn't had time for more than a PowerBar before their run. 

"Let's go, then," Eric says, unlocking his car. He tosses Jeff a Powerade that's kind of warm from sitting in his car, but Jeff takes a long swig anyway. "Finish that before we get there, you need to replace your electrolytes." 

"'Kay," Jeff nods. "I'll follow?" He gets out his own car keys. 

"Sounds good," Eric nods, so Jeff gets into his own car and follows Eric out of the parking lot. 

They end up at a downtown breakfast joint that's in the middle of the morning rush. A few people recognize Jeff, so he smiles for a picture and signs some napkins while Eric gets them a booth. He doesn't mind doing it; mostly people leave him alone once he sits down across from Eric. 

"I forget you're a big shot here," Eric says easily. "People haven't started recognizing Jordy yet, really." 

"I'm sure it won't take 'em long," Jeff shrugs. "He'll light it up." Jeff opens the plastic menu and scans it briefly. "So what on this are you gonna let me eat?" he jokes. 

Eric grins. "How do you feel about fruit cups?" 

Jeff does end up getting a fruit cup, along with some oatmeal, and toast with peanut butter. Eric nods his approval before ordering a large stack of blueberry pancakes for himself. Jeff's stomach rumbles. 

"So how'd you get so fast?" Jeff asks after they had the waiter their menus. 

"I did a lot of running after I rehabbed my hip," Eric shrugs. "It's still not one hundred percent, but it's something." 

Jeff feels like a dick for asking; he's kind of forgotten, in the two weeks he's been training with Eric, that Eric used to be _Eric Staal, second round draft pick_. To the Canes, even-- he and Jeff would've been teammates if he hadn't needed hip surgery and, well. The press had covered it pretty thoroughly, how it was a career ender and he might be able to play again, but he certainly wouldn't be able to get back at the NHL level. 

"Got it," Jeff says. "Sorry for asking." 

"Nah, it's cool," Eric says, and Jeff doubts that, but he doesn't say anything. "I've been training Jordy for so long that I forget sometimes, you know?" 

"Sure," Jeff says. He doesn't know. "When did you start with him?" 

"Pretty much right after I finished rehab," Eric says. "Got a degree in strength and conditioning and everything." 

"That's pretty awesome," Jeff says, because it is. He doesn't regret coming to the NHL early, because it's awesome and he's doing so well, loves his team and the game and he wouldn't change a thing, but he does kind of wonder what college would've been like. 

"Someone had to whip Jordy into shape," Eric says, smiling at Jeff like it's a secret between the two of them. Jeff laughs. 

When their food comes, Jeff digs in, not even really caring that it isn't Belgian waffles with whipped cream because he's so hungry. Eric watches him, looking amused, as he wolfs down the toast and polishes off his oatmeal in record time. 

"If only you were that fast on the track," Eric muses. "Or on the ice." 

"Fuck you," Jeff says through a mouthful of banana. Eric looks thoughtful, which makes Jeff blush a little, and Eric just laughs again, taking a bite of his pancake. 

 

Jeff grabs a quick nap before their pool session in the afternoon, and he's vaguely disappointed when he shows up on the pool deck and Eric is fully clothed. He tosses his towel to the side and smiles. 

"What am I in for?" he asks. Eric tosses him a sweatshirt. 

"Start with some laps," Eric says. "Go ahead and put that on." 

Jeff groans, but does as he's told. 

Even with the sweatshirt, the pool practice is nice-- he likes low-impact stuff, and it's so much better than being outside sweating out his body weight. Eric makes him keep drinking Powerade between every exercise he does, and a community swim class kicks them out before Eric can give him any add-on circuit to end with. Jeff considers it a good afternoon. 

"You lucked out," Eric tells him as he towels off his hair. The wet sweatshirt is in a pile at Jeff's feet and he's looking forward to a shower and another nap before dinner. 

"Sure did," Jeff says, beaming at him. He puts the towel down and tugs a t-shirt over his head. He's debating showering here, or waiting until he gets home so he can actually use the nice massaging showerhead he'd bought. He doesn't particularly want to drive wearing wet swim shorts, but he can always put a towel down. 

"When does your preseason start?" Eric asks. 

"Uh," Jeff shrugs. "Next week is testing, I'm pretty sure. Jordy should have the schedule." 

"Jordy probably hid the schedule from himself," Eric snorts. "Okay, so if you're testing next week, let's do your one rep max tests tomorrow morning so you aren't too sore to start camp?" 

"How considerate," Jeff laughs. "Sure. Jordy gonna make it?" 

"Well, I'm on my way home to find out," Eric says. 

"You guys are living together?" Jeff asks, and he shouldn't be surprised, because he has noticed them driving everywhere together over the past two weeks, but somehow, he is. 

"Don't remind me," Eric says, running a hand through his hair. "I haven't found a place yet." 

"Got it," Jeff says. "Good luck with that." He says it sincerely, because finding somewhere to live had been a bitch when he moved down here and he had the club helping out. 

"Thanks," Eric says easily. "See ya tomorrow." 

 

The rest of the guys start rolling into town over the course of the next week and preseason training camp starts pretty uneventfully. Jeff's glad he's been working out with Jordy-- knowing him a little better is nice especially now that the rest of the guys are back, but he can also honestly say that working out with Jordy and Eric has given him an extra edge. 

"Was this the secret to your rookie year?" Jeff asks Jordy during a water break, squirting water into his mouth from the Gatorade bottle and dropping his mouthguard onto the ice. He bends down to pick it up and his thighs protest, but not as much as they usually would. 

"What?" Jordy asks. 

"Eric," Jeff says. "I'm hurting, but not as bad as usual, you know?" He gestures down at his legs.

Jordy laughs. "I'll pass that on," he says. "You should come train with us for the whole summer next year." 

"Yeah?" Jeff asks. 

"Yeah, man, Eric would like that." Jordy winks at him. 

Jeff thinks about Eric and his deep belly laugh, how he makes Jeff want to do and be better, and says, "I would, too." 

 

Jeff keeps hanging out with Jordy and Eric. He ends up at their place a few nights a week to play video games and inevitably ends up staying for dinner because Eric has a knack for making really tasty diet-approved meals. 

He texts Eric, too, and mostly they talk about shit other than hockey and making fun of Jordy. Jeff loves his teammates, they're all great guys, but it's nice to have someone who isn't primarily a hockey player to talk to. Jeff finds himself strangely missing the early morning wakeup calls and training sessions. 

"What do you do in all your free time now," Jordy laughs when Jeff mentions it over dinner one night. 

"Yoga?" Eric guesses. 

"Only sometimes," Jeff says defensively, but Eric winks at him and he grins, shaking his head. "It's good for flexibility!" 

"You don't need to preach to this one," Jordy says through a mouthful of pasta. He points his fork at Eric. "He tried to get me to do it once, but I fell asleep during the meditation part." Eric and Jeff both laugh, and Jeff almost chokes on his sip of water. "Laugh all you want, assholes, but that mat was comfortable," Jordy says. 

"So not yoga all the time," Eric says, turning back to Jeff. "What else?" 

"I'm trying to teach myself guitar," Jeff shrugs. "One of my sisters got me one a while back, figured I might try to actually use it." 

"Really," Jordy says, sharing a glance with Eric that Jeff can't quite read. "You should play for Eric sometime." 

"Sure, I mean," Jeff starts. "I don't really know how to play anything yet, but." 

"You'll learn," Jordy says, and Eric starts heaping more pasta onto both of their plates. 

 

Jeff picks up a bone bruise on his ankle after blocking a shot in practice. It's not a big deal, he knows-- he can still do a lot of the team workouts, he just can't skate for a few days. He won't even miss any games, because the season doesn't start for another week, and Jeff knows that he should be happy about all of that, but he still goes home from the trainer's and sulks on his couch for a while, watching The Lion King and icing his ankle. 

He gets the usual _man up_ and _tis but a flesh wound_ texts from his teammates, which make him smile but ultimately don't do much, and then he gets a text from Eric. 

_jordy said you got hurt, doing ok?_

It's just a text, and Jeff knows that you can't really convey tone in text messages, but it seems urgent somehow, and Jeff doesn't want Eric to panic or be worrying about him. _just a bone bruise, no skating for a few days but no biggie_ , he texts back right away. 

His phone buzzes again a few minutes later and it's a reply from Eric: _rough, wanna hang out tomorrow so you don't get bored? i'll pick you up_.

 _sure_ , Jeff texts back. There's a morning skate he won't be able to participate in, and it'll be nice to have something to do, someone to hang out with. 

He finishes watching his movie and he and Eric text back and forth for a while, figuring out what time Eric should come over and then just shooting the shit. Jeff falls asleep on the couch with his mostly-melted icepack still on his foot, and when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he's too comfortable to move despite the slight throbbing in his foot, so he just tosses the icepack onto the coffee table and goes back to sleep. 

 

Jeff is awake when Eric gets to his place, but it still takes him a while to get to the door. He's not limping, exactly, he's just walking gingerly because the bruise is where his foot bends and he doesn't want to make it worse. 

"Hey," Eric says when Jeff finally unlocks his door and opens it. "Ready?" 

"Yep," Jeff says, smiling. He's got his keys and his wallet in his pockets and he doesn't really feel like he needs to make his way back to the living room to grab his phone. "Let's go." 

"There's an ice brace in the glove," Eric says when they get to his car. He reaches over the center console once they're inside and opens the passenger glove compartment. "Put it on, eh?" 

His hand brushes against the top of Jeff's thigh when he takes his hand back and Jeff nods and takes the brace out of the glove compartment. "You froze it already?" he asks. 

"Yes," Eric snorts, starting the car. "I wouldn't make you wear a not-frozen ice brace." 

Jeff slips his shoe off and puts the brace on over his sock. He tightens the strap and it's seriously uncomfortable for a few minutes while his foot adjusts to the temperature. "Fuck," he grunts. "It's almost as bad as a slush bucket." 

"I have one of those for you back at Jordy's place," Eric says, winking. He puts his hand back on Jeff's thigh to keep him from wiggling his foot around, trying to get away from the cold. "First three minutes are the worst, you'll be fine." 

"Are you serious about the slush bucket?" Jeff asks, instantly suspicious. Eric just winks at him. 

"You'll see," he says, and Jeff grumbles, but Eric is right, the first three minutes in the ice brace are the worst and after that his foot and ankle start to get pleasantly numb. Eric keeps his hand on Jeff's thigh after he stops squirming, and that's nice, too. 

They pull up at the same breakfast joint Eric had taken him to earlier in the summer, and Jeff smiles. "Can I cheat on my diet?" he asks as they get out of the car, before Eric can say anything about fruit cups. "I'm injured, I need comfort food." 

"You're fine," Eric laughs, shaking his head. "Barely even hurt." 

"No, I'm seriously injured," Jeff says, leaning against the hood of the car and exaggerating. "I can barely walk, you might have to carry me in." He's got his shoe on over the ice brace with the laces loosened as much as he can get them, so walking _is_ kind of awkward. 

"If you're lucky, I'll carry you back," Eric laughs. "Come on, champ." 

Jeff doesn't get stopped inside this time, so they go straight to a booth and Jeff slides his menu over to Eric's side, pointing at the Belgian waffles. "I want them," he says. "With whipped cream and strawberries." He flashes his dimples. "Please?" 

Eric sighs like he's laboring over the decision, and Jeff knows he's won. "As long as you get a fruit cup, too," Eric concedes, and Jeff smiles so wide he has to duck his head. 

"You're my favorite Staal," he says. "Don't tell Jordy." 

Eric laughs. "Oh no," he says. "I'm definitely telling Jordy. Fuck, I'm adding that to my business card." 

 

Eric wasn't kidding about the slush bucket. He drives them back to Jordy's place after they eat and Jeff's ready to sink into a food coma from his waffles, but Eric fills the bucket up with ice and cold water and sets it in front of Jeff. Jeff throws his hand over his face, but Eric looks at him meaningfully and Jeff's eyes are closed but he can _feel_ it. He still doesn't know why, but he doesn't want to let Eric down, so he sits on the couch and takes his sock off. 

"I hate you," he says, but he doesn't mean it one bit and Eric seems to know that because he smiles. 

"Here," he says magnanimously. "You can pick the channel." He passes Jeff the TV remote. 

Jeff channel surfs until he finds a movie he vaguely recognizes, and then he takes a deep breath and sticks his foot into the slush bucket. "Motherfucker," he grits out, willing himself to keep his foot submerged. 

"Language," Eric tsks, "Come on, suck it up." Jeff scowls at his lack of sympathy, but Eric's face softens and he scoots a little closer to Jeff on the couch so he can put his hand on Jeff's thigh again. 

"I had to sit on Jordy's leg to keep his foot in one of these once," Eric says. "I don't want to squash you, so don't make me do that." 

Jeff rolls his eyes. "You aren't _that_ much bigger than me," he says, because Eric's tall, sure, but he's lost most of his hockey bulk and Jeff knows that he has a baby face, but he's not actually a child. 

"Don't be so sure of that," Eric winks, and Jeff finds himself blushing a little. 

Eric keeps his hand on Jeff's thigh for the full twenty minutes and Jeff isn't sad in the slightest to take his foot out of the slush bucket when the time is up, but he is a little sad that Eric isn't touching him anymore. 

 

Jeff's only out of action for a few days, but he's still ridiculously happy to get back to practicing with the team. They have preseason games coming up and he's been playing on a line with Jordy, so his first day back, they warm up together, shooting the shit and chirping each other and Jeff's foot just feels bruised instead of like he wants to hack it off when it presses against his skate. 

"So you and Eric chummed it up this week," Jordy comments as they stretch out, the whole team in a circle on the ice. 

"Yeah," Jeff says, smiling wide because hanging out with Eric was nice despite the slush buckets. "He let me cheat on my diet, I should get injured more often." 

Jordy shakes his head, grinning. "That's a sure sign, man," he says. 

"What?" 

"That he's super fucking gone for you," Jordy says, and the look he gives Jeff clearly says _duh_. "He never lets me cheat on my diet, even when I'm actually injured and not just bitching about a bruise." 

Jeff swats at him with a gloved hand and Jordy scoots back just out of his reach, laughing. "Super fucking gone, huh?" 

Jordy rolls his eyes. "This is not middle school and I will not pass notes to him," he says, even though that's really not where Jeff was going with the conversation. "You want in on that, you tell him yourself. And also don't tell me anything about it, ever." 

"Deal," Jeff laughs, and stands up to start practice. 

 

Their first preseason game sneaks up on Jeff before he can talk to Eric and it's a home game, which he's glad for. The arena isn't sold out by a long shot, but there are definitely enough fans there for it to be loud and he feels energized just hearing the crowd. 

He and Jordy are still on a line together and they start the game. Jeff smiles as they all glide into place for the faceoff, because this feeling never gets old no matter how many times he's done it or how insignificant the game is. It takes him and Jordy a few shifts to really click and Jeff keeps smiling, because he knows that the more they skate together, the faster it'll happen and that by the time they have their real season opener, they'll be on the same page before the puck drops. 

It's halfway through the second period when Jordy gets the puck against the boards and Jeff knows where he needs to be more on instinct than anything. It's like he's watching film, seeing the open space before it's open, so he slides into and Jordy knocks the puck towards him without even looking up. Jeff gets it on his tape and turns into his favorite spin-o-rama so he can get his hands free to rip a shot. 

The light goes off and Jeff throws his hands up in celebration. He points at Jordy, skating over to where he's still leaning against the boards and crushes him into a hug. The rest of their team piles on top of them and Jeff laughs and cheers because it feels fucking great and he knows there's going to be so much more of this coming during the season. 

On the off chance that Eric is watching the livestream, Jeff points at the press box where he knows the cameras are set up as he skates over to the bench. 

 

There's a slew of congratulatory texts waiting for Jeff when he checks his phone in the locker room, mostly from his sisters. He starts a group text with all of them and replies en masse, _thanks love you all skype soon??_

Eric's text pops up just after he sends it, and it's pretty short, _sick goal congrats! have fun celebrating tonight_. 

Jeff towels off his hair and roots around in his locker for clean clothes. He changes and gets through the media scrum before he replies to Eric, _how about you come celebrate with me?_

It feels like it's almost too much of a line so Jeff's thumb hovers over the Send button for a moment, wavering, before he decides that he wants it to be a line, he doesn't need to be subtle about trying to pick Eric up, and so he sends it and then puts his phone on silent and shoves it into his pocket. He doesn't let himself check it as he gets into his car and drives home, unlocks his door and lets himself in, but he pulls it out to plug it in once he's in his kitchen and there's a reply waiting for him. 

_yeah? if you're saying what i think you're saying i'll be over asap_. 

Jeff plugs his phone in and gets a water bottle out of his fridge. _i'm saying what you think i'm saying_ , he sends, and Eric doesn't reply. Jeff assumes he's driving over, feels presumptuous for assuming, and then remembers that it's not presumptuous when Eric's already said yes. 

Eric doesn't bother ringing the bell when he gets to Jeff's place, just bangs on the door a few times, and Jeff tries to wait for a minute to make it seem like he hasn't been sitting around waiting before he remembers that they aren't playing games anymore. He yanks the door open and smiles. 

"Hey," he says, dimples on full display, and Eric smiles right back. 

"Hi," Eric says, and Jeff steps to the side to let him in. They head for Jeff's living room automatically and Jeff settles next to Eric on the couch. "So," Eric starts. "What tipped you off?" 

Jeff tilts his head slightly. "The waffles," he says, because he doesn't want to bring up Jordy and kill the mood. Eric smiles like he knows it was Jordy anyway, so Jeff figures it doesn't matter. "Why didn't you just say something?" 

"I like flirting with you," Eric says, and it's a lot more direct than Jeff was expecting. He smiles a little. "Also, you know. You're the hockey player, you have more on the line than me. I figured- I don't know, I wanted it to come from you, so you were sure." 

Jeff's pretty sure it isn't supposed to be an emotional declaration—and really it isn't-- but it kind of feels like one, and Jeff's belly swoops a little. "I'm sure," he says, and Eric reaches out to touch his hand. 

"Good," Eric smiles, and Jeff's kind of expecting him to lean in then but he doesn't, just sits back against the arm of the couch and grins, so Jeff leans forward instead, getting up onto his knees so he can close the distance between them and kiss Eric. 

One of Eric's arms comes to rest against Jeff's back, keeping him in place, and Jeff's always known that Eric is a tall guy, bigger than he is, but knowing that in his head is nothing like feeling it against his body, and Jeff likes it. They make out lazily for a while and Jeff gets a hand under the hem of Eric's t-shirt, pushing it up a little to run his fingers over Eric's abs and chest. He's still pretty built, which is also something that Jeff knew before, but seems new now. 

Eric breaks off when Jeff's fingers start dipping underneath the waistband of his jeans, and Jeff bites his lip. "Too far?" he asks. 

Eric shakes his head. "Not far enough," he corrects. "Should we take this to your bedroom?" 

Jeff still isn't used to how direct Eric's being, to how direct he can be with Eric, and it goes straight to his dick. He stands up. "Yeah," he says. 

Eric palms Jeff's ass when Jeff turns around to start walking, and that goes straight to Jeff's dick, too. 

 

Eric stays the night, curling against Jeff as they sleep, but when Jeff wakes up, he's alone in the bed. He gets up and brushes his teeth, scrubbing a hand through his hair, and wanders into the kitchen, because he can hear Eric puttering around. 

There's a protein shake on the counter and eggs in the frying pan. Eric is wielding a spatula and holding a glass of water. "Drink," he says, pointing the spatula at the shake. 

Jeff ignores him and slides into Eric's space instead, getting his hand to Eric's cheek and tilting his face down so Jeff can kiss him. "I don't have practice today," he says. "No training." 

"That doesn't mean you aren't gonna need your strength," Eric says after another kiss. Jeff grins, and Eric presses a quick kiss to the dimple on his left cheek. 

"Is that a promise?" Jeff asks, extracting himself from Eric and going back to the counter to grab the shake. 

"You bet," Eric says, and Jeff holds the glass up, toasting him, before he starts to drink.


End file.
